


Bastet:  Goddess of MI6

by 00QEros (Dassandre)



Series: Gods and Goddesses of the Small Death [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, Q Has a Cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 20:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12140895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/00QEros
Summary: James comes back from a tedious mission in a foul mood.  Whether he's conscious or not, Q always seems to have the ability to change that.This prompt was posted in the FB 00Q group today.  A simple paragraph fill was all that was needed, but when have I ever been able to fill anything with a simple paragraph?Prompt:  "I found him this way ..."





	Bastet:  Goddess of MI6

**Author's Note:**

  * For [springbok7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/springbok7/gifts).



> A quick gift for my dear friend, Springbok 7, who is ALWAYS there for me when I need her love and support. I've been having a bit of a time of it lately, and without intentionally setting out to do so, she helped jumpstart my writing as well as remind me that I'm actually quite good at my day job, too.
> 
>  
> 
> This piece hasn't been betaed or Brit-picked (because it's a surprise for my dear SB7), so any errors are my own.

It had been a long and tedious mission and an even longer and more tedious debriefing, but James was finally finished with Mallory and his unending questions.

Like it was James’ fault that the mark had an over-inflated sense of his own skill as a free solo climber -- Alex Honnold, the man was _not_ \--  and had fallen to his death a mere 20 metres from the ground before James had been able to seduce the codes out of him.  Bond hadn’t even made it to Colorado yet, for the love of Pete!  So, again, _not_ his fault!

Thankfully, James had been able to make use of the man’s cousin.  Fucking her for the codes hadn’t been an option -- Why not, Bond?  Mallory had demanded.  Sir, trust me on this.  It just was _not_ an option -- and had meant him taking the much longer and, yes, _tedious_ , route of building up a rapport, which was almost also not an option.  

The things he did for Queen and Country!

What should have been a quick three day in-and-out -- No, that _wasn’t_ a double-entendre, and don’t think I can’t hear that laughter over comms, Quartermaster! -- had taken nearly a fortnight of careful cultivation and negotiation, during which time he’d hardly been in contact with HQ at all because of all the ridiculously over-inflated -- it was apparently a family trait -- and neurotic (had he mentioned neurotic?) security precautions the hackers had in place.  

No HQ?  Okay, fine.  He didn’t particularly care to talk with Mallory when he was _off_ mission let alone on one.

No Quartermaster?  That was something else again, and completely unacceptable.   James could do without comm support -- had for over a decade before Ethan became Q -- but do without _Q_.  

No.  Just … no.

A fortnight away from his love with no contact beyond that first day in Telluride.

James shrugged.  Maybe it _was_ time for him to take HR up on that pension he never thought he’d live long enough to take, after all.  He loved his job, but sometimes he just felt too damn old for this shite.

Where was he?  Oh yes.  Tedious!

So, it was reasonable, in James’ opinion, that he was irritable by the time the second hour of the debriefing had passed.  When it had finally ended three hours later, irritable had long since devolved to downright brassed off, so it was equally reasonable, in his opinion, that he nearly bit off Moneypenny’s head when she grasped his arm right before he stepped into Q-Branch and pulled him toward the entrance of a corridor that led deep into one of the little used tunnels of the Bunkers.

“Oh, stop whinging on and dial down the ‘scary assassin’ vibe, would you?” Moneypenny said before James could do more than growl her name.  “It doesn’t work here.  He’s not even in the Branch.”  

“He’s down here?”  

Moneypenny hummed an affirmative.  “Has been since yesterday morning.”

James looked at his Omega.  It was after 2200.  “Good lord, why?!”

“There have been a few … developments.”  Moneypenny flicked on the torch she carried.  They had passed the last section of tunnel where standard lighting was embedded in the ceiling and had moved into those areas illuminated only by red security lights.

“Ada?” he asked, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice and failing miserably.

“Got it in one.”

“Aces!  How --”

“Wait and see, James.”  Even in the unsteady light of the torch, Moneypenny’s smile shone.

Conversation grew idle as they continued their journey; the silence of the tunnels themselves grew thick as they moved ever farther from the populated sections of the Bunkers, and though the quiet and hush should have unnerved him, James felt a peace he had not known for a fortnight settle over him and even his breathing grew easier.  His gait looser, more relaxed.

“Here we are.”  Eve gestured with the torch as she switched it off.  They had rounded an easy bend that James knew brought this stretch of the tunnel parallel to the Thames, and along with an increased dampness in the air, James noted that the dim red of the lights was suffused now with a warmer glow.

Eve slowed her pace, then stopped altogether, halting Bond’s progress with an outstretched hand.

“Yep.  Just as I left him,” she whispered, nodding with her chin at the impromptu campsite that had been tucked into one of the shallow alcoves ahead.  

It was simple, the site.  Light from a battery-powered lantern helped dispel the blood red, and there, next to it, was the thermoelectric coolbox that had been ‘enhanced’ with a charging station prior to their first, and last, tent camping holiday -- it would all be ‘glamping’ from here on out -- and scattered about, tidily though, were empty bottles of water, a tin or two of gourmet cat food, and a packet of ridiculously posh cat treats.

“He’s been with her since it began.  Was frantic when he couldn’t find her at first.  Was ready to send the minions out in search parties.”

“They’d have done it, too,” James said in a hushed voice.  “Completely enamored of the little beggar, they are.”  But then, so was he.  Ada was as much a part of his life as her papa was, and each had brought James more contentment than he had ever dreamed possible.

“He’s exhausted.  I found him this way about two hours ago when I brought him take-away from Mango Kitchen.”

“Safe to say the korma’s grown cold,” James chuckled.

A whelping box and a kittening pen would have completed the picture, had they been full.  The final tableau, however, had been achieved by the sight of a lightly snoring Ethan Bond, sound asleep on the low camp bed, arm casually looped around an eagle-eyed Ada who kept tabs on her papa as well as the eight … no nine sleeping newborn kittens that she had disposed comfortably around the Quartermaster.

“He’s mad as a box of frogs, isn’t he?”  James couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at the absolutely adorable sight.

“And you’re completely in love with him.”

He was.

He really, really was.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not a perfect or polished piece, by any means. It's more therapy than anything else, but I'd certainly appreciate any kudos or comments you care to give.
> 
> I could really use them right now, if you think this piece is worthy. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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